


Guns, Ranks, and Milkshakes

by iloveitblue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, ROTC AU, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint falls in love at first sight with one of the cadet officers in his unit but he's going to deny it 'til he graduates from ROTC</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guns, Ranks, and Milkshakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelulusoldier](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thelulusoldier).



> A gift to thelulusoldier who won my little Christmas giveaway.
> 
> Prompt was:  
>  _I'm gonna have to make this a meet cute AU, with punk culture overtones? Maybe Phil does ROTC or is actively in the military but has tattoos & piercings, or possibly post-military, Clint surviving as Clint always does, possibly considering going to the side of good (from his generally chaotic neutral stance)._
> 
> I'm terribly sorry I'm a little late. I'm hoping it's still Christmas where you are. xD
> 
> Also, before you say anything, this was how I went through ROTC, Although we had six months instead of just three. I don't know how other unis do it though.
> 
> Unbeta'd due to time constraints. Any mistakes you find are non-existent. They are not there. Shuuush.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Clint says over his cup of coffee, Natasha looked up from the mess of papers in front of her and gave him a blank face.

They’re inside their usual diner – ol’ Joe’s down by the end of the road. Inaccessible to people with cars so only a few people take the initiative to visit the place. Clint and Natasha love it though. Aside from the fact that it’s almost always quiet, the food is great and the owner, Mrs. Jacobs, lets them stay as long as they want, not a bad deal in Clint’s book – working on the assignment Professor Pym has given them on the first day of class.

Well, Clint was at least, Natasha finished hers while Clint was enthusiastically talking to Natasha about the university’s archery team. – The university was known for its sports programs, Archery wasn’t the top sport but it was still pretty great. The range is an immaculate place and Clint’s wanted to try his hand there since before he applied for a scholarship to the University - He’s been waiting all summer for this. – So now, Natasha was just trying to look for electives to fill her schedule.

“ROTC? Really?” Clint asks her, appalled by her choice of elective.

Natasha shrugs, “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to. We’re not connected at the hip.”

“Yeah, but I thought for sure you’d take Russian classes.” Clint points to one of the classes available to fit Natasha’s schedule. “See?”

“I already know how to speak Russian.” Natasha frowns at him.

“Exactly! Easy A!” Clint grins, bearing his teeth at her, proud.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him, “I like a challenge, Clint. Russ103 will be anything but. ROTC on the other hand… They’ve got guns.”

Clint freezes in his seat in the light of new information. “Guns as in guns, or guns as in _guns?_ ”

Natasha raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “I think there’s only one definition of gun, Clint.”

Clint waves a hand in front of his face in dismissal. “Yeah, no. Some ROTC guys use those wooden fake gun things that they just wave around and shit. I wanna know if we’re talking about _real_ guns. The ones that shoot bullets. The fucking cool ones.”

Natasha smiles at him and answers with a roll of her eyes, “Yes Clint. It’s the fucking cool ones.”

“Do we get to shoot it?” Clint waggles his eyebrows at her.

She scrunches up her nose and pretends to think about it for a moment, when Clint knows that in fact she’s researched the corps well before she chose it. “It’s graded for finals.” She smirks at him knowingly.

Clint grins and tries not to bounce in his seat like a child because 17 year olds do not bounce on their seats, thank you very much. “Count me in! I wanna fire me some guns.”

Natasha laughs.

\---

**Day 1**

Clint groans and rolls on to his side when his phone beeps at him incessantly, forcing him to open an eye. He reaches for his phone and presses a button, squinting so that the blinding light doesn’t actually blind him.

_04 : 15  am_

Clint groans some more and regrets every decision he’s made that ever led to this moment. The sun isn’t even up yet. What the hell is his phone doing yelling at him to get up? It’s not fair. All the other people in this house was still sleeping and his phone is beeping at him. He pushes snooze and smooshes his face back into the pillow.

 _5 more minutes._ He thinks. The world will still be there after 5 minutes.

He sighs into his pillow, warm and welcoming him into the world of sleep once more, but before he could drift back, his phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t the alarm. It was Natasha’s ringtone.

“…’lo?” He manages to say with a sleep riddled voice.

He hears Natasha snort from the other line. “Figures you’re still asleep. You have 30 minutes to get dressed for training, before Bucky and I pick you up. If you’re not in the driveway by the time we’re there, we’re leaving without you.

 _Fuck._ Clint thinks quietly. _Fucking ROTC._

“Hey, I didn’t force you to join it with me. It’s too late for you to back out.”

It takes Clint a second to realize that he’s said that out loud rather than just thinking it.

“Well, are you getting up?” Natasha asks, like she’s actually in the room, watching him as he makes a burrito out of himself with the sheets.

“I’m up. I’m up.” Clint grouches, even as he buries himself deeper into his sheets.

“No you’re not.” Clint can hear Natasha mocking him. “You’re waiting for me to put the phone down so you can go back to sleep.” Clint groans again. Sometimes he really hated how much Natasha knew him. “Get up, Clint. I will not let you get in Bucky’s car smelling like ‘just woken up’”

“It’s not your car, woman.”

“Bucky’s too polite to tell you to fuck off.” Clint can actually hear her rolling her eyes.

“Pssh. We’re talking about the same guy here right? ‘Coz I can cite at least 5 times Bucky has told me to fuck off.”

“You were probably being rude.”

“Tasha, I’m hurt. You’d side with him rather than your best friend? I feel betrayed. I feel so hurt in fact that I might have to stay in bed all day moping.”

“Shut up, Clint. Get dressed. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Wait, I thought I had thirty?”

“You did, but you’re still not up so this is your punishment. 20 minutes, Clint. Tick tock.” The line went dead.

Clint sighs as he pushes himself to sit up against the headboard. 20 minutes, maybe he could sleep 10 minutes off and just shower and dress himself _really_ quickly. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Nah, Natasha would know and that’d just give her more ammunition against him.

He forces himself to get up and head straight to the bathroom, yawning as he went.

Twenty minutes later, Clint tries not to fall asleep standing up as he waits for Natasha and Bucky by the sidewalk. He’s starting to nod off when an obnoxious honk woke him up. He sighs when he finds Bucky laughing and Natasha smirking. Clint rolls his eyes and gets in the car anyway.

“Assholes.”

\---

The people in the training grounds could be compared to zombies. Everybody looked like they’d all rather be in bed than awake at this godforsaken hour on a Saturday morning. Clint could relate. Actually, the only people who looks like they’re really awake was Natasha, Bucky, and another group of people huddled in a corner who were wearing a fatigues.

“CADETS! FALL IN!” one of the men wearing the fatigue yells out. “10 Cadets front and center! Others, follow through!”

Natasha and Bucky walk quickly to the front of the crowd, standing tall and at attention. Clint follows them, standing beside Natasha, not as awake but hey, at least he’s following orders right?

The blond walks in front of them, checking alignments and doing a head count before he goes back to one of the other men, says something Clint couldn’t make out, salutes and goes to stand beside the other fatigued people.

The man he reported to takes a step forward, his hands behind his back and smirks at all of the cadets standing in front of him. The man had a scar over his left eye that made him look more intimidating than he already was. His stare looked bored at most, but it was enough to scare his cadets to stand at attention. Clint stares at him with an equally bored look. The man catches Clint’s eye, he does a once over and scoffs. Clint tries not to feel offended – he mostly fails.

“Today, we will divide the unit to specific specializations. There are four specializations to choose from. The Navigators, headed by Captain Rogers. The Signal Battalion, headed by Captain Coulson, The Model Battalion, headed by myself and First Lieutenant Wilson. Last but not least is the Head Quarters, headed by Assistant Commander Hill and First Lieutenant Carter. You will be given the rest of today to choose…”

Clint knows that the man, whoever he was, was still talking but he can’t seem to bring himself to listen. Clint stares dumbly at the man standing beside Captain Rogers. Assistant Commander Coulson. The man looked plain enough, so Clint doesn’t understand why he can’t look away. Coulson stares straight ahead, standing on parade rest. He’s wearing the same thing as the other officers but somehow his uniform looks better – which, again, doesn’t make sense since all of the officers look like they spent all night preparing their uniforms.

Clint continues to stare even after Coulson catches his eye. They stay like that for… Clint doesn’t know how long, playing chicken. Clint notices his eyes first. They’re blue, but also not. Clint can see the flecks of grey outlining the blue and it’s easily the most beautiful colors Clint has seen. Clint’s eyes travel down to Coulson’s lips, a soft pink that was an easy contrast to his skin. His face, speckled with freckles that Clint just knew was going to look very tantalizing under the summer sun.

Clint’s focus was torn from Coulson when Natasha ribbed him. He whips his head to Natasha, breaking the moment. “Ow,” Clint runs one hand down his side. “What?”

“Are we choosing a specialization or not?”

“Wha- I- What specialization?” Clint frowns in confusion.

“Bucky’s going to go through the Officer’s program. I’m not gonna go. Seems like too much work. What about you?”

“I- Do you know what specialization Coulson heads?” He asks, knowing at least that Coulson led a Battalion or something.

“I think he’s in charge of Signal. Why?” Natasha asks with a smirk, playing on her lips. “Oh my god. You like him, don’t you?” Natasha teases.

“I do not!”

Natasha laughs. “You _do!_ I can’t believe you actually fell in love at first sight!”

“Shut up. It’s not _love_. I just-“

“You just like his face?” Natasha’s eyes gleamed in that way that Clint knows is going to be perfectly embarrassing for him and fun for her. “You wanna _kiss_ him?” Natasha waggles her eyebrows and starts making kissy-faces at him.

Clint rolls his eyes at her and shoves her softly. “I hate you so much.”

“Of course you do. That’s exactly why you’re going to ignore me when I say I know where the ‘fucking cool guns’ are.” She encases the words in air quotes.

Clint’s eyes light up and looks around for any signs of the promised weapon. Sadly, there were none. “Where is it? Take me to my babies.”

Natasha snorts and leads him to Hill anyway.

\---

**Day 8**

Clint is face down on the ground, practically making out with the earth, actually. He tries not to offend the ground but really Clint’s not into kissing it.

“Up!” Hill demands, pacing in front of her charge.

Clint pushes against the ground, lifting himself and holding it. In retrospect, Pushups never really bothered Clint – with the archery and the self-training, physical exercises were a piece of cake for him. Besides, he’s been through worse.

“Down!” Hill orders them, a smirk growing on her face. “If you really want to handle these guns, you have to develop your _guns_ first. Sanchez! I said down!”

\---

Clint meets up with Natasha during their break, rehydrating themselves after the workout they went under with Hill – no innuendo intended. They watch as the officers in training ran laps around the track with the scary man from the first day.

“Fury.” Natasha supplies, not taking her eyes off of Bucky. “That’s his name.” She shoots her a look before turning back to watching. “I thought maybe you wanted to know his name since you’ve probably been too busy staring at Coulson to even hear his name.”

Clint hums and ignores Natasha’s teasing – it was true anyway. “Suits him.”

Natasha scoffs and jerks her head to the side. “Coulson’s over there by the way.”

Clint turns his head and sees that, yes, Coulson is over there. Over there being the other side of the grand stand, standing under the shade of the tree together with his unit. Coulson is trying to teach them Morse code. Clint hums again, but his gaze is now fixed at Coulson.

“You should talk to him.” Natasha says, giving all of her attention to Clint.

Clint clicks his tongue. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m really not.” Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

“There’s got to be a rule against that right? Fraternization with your superior or something?”

It’s Natasha’s turn to hum, “Since when have you cared about rules?”

“Tasha, you wound me.” Clint raises his hand in a faux display of hurt. “Besides, even if I don’t, he probably does.” She nods a little, accepting his point. “Plus, I don’t even know if he plays on the same team.”

Natasha smirks. “Oh, he does. He’s bi.”

Clint frowns. “How’d you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

\---

**Day 22**

“Tell your sources you no longer need their services. I’m no longer interested.” Clint says in a way of greeting, looking at Natasha with a scowl.

She returned the frown with an equally menacing version of hers. “What are you talking about?”

“Coulson.” Clint started walking to the diner where they were going to wait for Bucky to finish his training then get rides home.

“What about him? What happened?” Natasha asks, her tone suddenly growing concerned.

“He’s a jerk. And a bully. And he fucking made someone cry!”

“What?” Natasha’s frown only grows deeper but this time with an amused quirk of the lips.

“I thought he was one of the good guys, you know? He looked it too! Now I see how pathetic it was for me to like someone that easily. It’s the eyes, I tell you.” Clint started gesturing wildly, his hands flying in the air like he’s conducting an orchestra. Those baby blues are what he uses to lure in his prey. It’s hypnotizing, like… like that snake in the Jungle book! He bat’s those eyes and boom! He’s got you doing what he wants without even-“

“Okay, okay. Stop. Just- stop. You’ve lost your point. What exactly happened?” Clint opens the door to the diner for her as soon as they reached it. Who says chivalry is dead? Natasha goes straight to their usual booth and ordered them both a basket of fries and 2 milkshakes. Clint orders a ½ pound cheeseburger as he slides in the booth with her.

Natasha gives him a face.

“What?! I’m a growing boy. I need to eat.” Clint defends himself as the waitress leaves them alone. Natasha rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Anyway. I was brushing up on my espionage-“

“Stalking” Natasha supplies.

“skills and I was following him, see? Then I stealthily tailed-“

“followed.”

“him to the back of the grand stand where some of the cadets from Model were resting. They all looked so tired, poor things. But then Coulson,” the waitress arrives with their milkshakes and the fries. She places the fries in the middle of the table and the milkshakes in front of both teenagers. “thanks,” Clint says absently to the waitress. “he starts yelling at them. For no fucking reason. And then this one girl, I couldn’t see her tag, starts crying and it pisses Coulson even more and he starts screaming at them louder. I turned away before I saw anything else.”

Natasha hums, taking a piece of fry and dipping it in ketchup before eating it. “I don’t see the problem.”

Clint pauses, fry halfway to his mouth. “Are you kidding me? I laid out the problem for you. Plain and simple.”

Natasha gave him a look that told him she had her doubts. “He’s an officer, Clint. Screaming is kinda in the job description. Besides, I don’t think he’s the kind to just up and scream at cadets because he feels like it. They might’ve done something against regulation.”

Clint stares at her for a moment. “What is it with you and going against me?”

Natasha shrugs, shit eating grin on her white skin. “I state the truth. You just happen to weigh on the opposite side often.” Clint pouts at her and steals another one of her fries. He dips it into the milkshake and happily eats it. “And that is disgusting.”

Clint gasps. “Bite your tongue. This, my dear Natasha, is a combination heaven sent. It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

Natasha scoffs. “Clint, hun. Let me tell you about tastes…”

Their conversation drifts, the Coulson-topic floating away to the backs of their minds, forgotten.

**\---**

**Day 28**

Last training day, they were made to compete with each other for the top 10 spots in Field Stripping. Clint and Natasha were already confident that they were going to get in since they’ve had the top spots for the past training days – taking turns for #1 every week – but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. There were a lot of people to compete against, after all.

They all took turns Assembling and Disassembling the M16 in front of them, while Hill timed them. They also had to go through an exam to test their knowledge on the weapon and not just their fingers’ dexterity.

Barton came in first with a record of 7.13 seconds for disassembly and 12 flat for assembly – An impressive time for someone who just started training. Romanoff a close second with 7.25 and 12.14. Needless to say, Fury was impressed. The Tactical Inspections was nearing and they couldn’t afford losing their championship title to another university. ROTC was already under the close eye of the university board, if they couldn’t deliver with results or any achievements, they were going to be shut down by the next academic year.

“There are more than enough people in this corps to choose a cadet or two to train apart from the time we already have on Saturdays.” Fury decides. “Five of you will choose two cadets each. Namely, Hill, Coulson, Rogers, Carter, and May. Find an acceptable time outside of Saturdays to train them. Am I understood?”

“Sir, Yes Sir.” The room chorused.

\---

**Day 29**

“Barton, you’re with me.” Coulson says, pointing at Clint then jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “So are you, Rumlow.”

Clint looks at Natasha and she gives him an unhelpful shrug. For a moment, Clint panics, thinking back to what he might have done to get him into any sort of trouble but none come to mind. Well, none except for the conversation he had with Natasha last week, but Coulson couldn’t have heard it right? That’s ridiculous. Right? But Coulson was Coulson. He’s this scary unassuming man that could easily blend in with his surroundings. He could’ve just as easily tailed Clint and Natasha to ol’ Joes. He could’ve just as easily heard what Clint’s said about him. Maybe that’s why Clint was in trouble… because Coulson heard everything. Oh God. He really heard, didn’t he?

But wait, how does Rumlow come into the picture?

“The Corps Commander has asked me to train both of you for the General Tactical Inspection. You will both be under my supervision until the competition concludes. But for the meantime, I need to know the times in which you can train with me outside of Saturdays.”

“Like extra training time?” Rumlow scoffs, like Coulson just told him a joke. Coulson raises an eyebrow at him and Rumlow tenses for a second, “sir.” He amends.

“Exactly like extra training time.” Coulson nods, “Which is why I’ll need the schedule of your free time and-“

“I don’t mean to be rude, sir but I don’t think I need any more training.” He gives Coulson a once over and smirks. “No offense.”

Coulson smirks back. “None taken.” He turns to Clint instead, “What about you Barton? Think you’re good enough?”

Clint shakes his head. “No sir.” Clint wasn’t an expert at body language, but even he could tell that ‘yes’ would be the wrong answer.

Coulson gives him a nod. “Very good. How does Sunday afternoon sound?” Clint simply gives him a nod. “Assistant Commander Hill will collect your information. I will contact you as soon as I have it.” He gives them a final nod before turning away to go back to his unit.

“You can’t be serious about being trained by _him_.” Rumlow scoffs at Clint.

Clint frowns. “Why? Extra training time sounds fine to me.”

“Yeah. But come on. Look at Coulson. He’s at most a pencil pusher. I’d rather be trained by Hill than him. I feel like I’m going to get slower if I train with him.”

Clint doesn’t say anything more. He just shakes his head at Rumlow and goes to find Natasha. Clint still thinks that Coulson is a jerk, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to degrade the man offering to help him with his technique.

\---

**Day 30**

Clint is late.

So very late in fact, for his meeting with Coulson, that Clint is 100% sure Coulson’s going to make him do pushups in the middle of the sidewalk. Well, maybe 75% sure.

Clint slows to a walk, a block away from where he was supposed to meet Coulson and looks around the street. No Coulson in sight. Clint sighs in relief at Coulson’s absence. No Coulson means he’s not late. He stands outside of the coffee shop and takes out his phone.

There’s a thread of messages from Coulson to him.

_Where are you? I’m here._

_Barton, you’re late._

_In case you do show up, I’ll be back. Just wait there. Order a coffee or something. That’s what I did._

Clint winces at the last one. He sighs and types out a text for Coulson.

_Sir, I’m here._

The reply he gets is almost instantaneous.

_I’m at the park across the street. If you can’t sit still, just come find me._

Clint frowns down at his phone. Why was Coulson in the park in the first place? He decides to just go find the man instead of standing stupidly in front of the coffee shop. He jogs across the street and walks around a while before he finally sees someone.

A little boy was sat on the shoulders of who Clint guesses was the dad. The child points to the swing sets and the father quickly pulls his tattoo-covered hand up to keep the child from toppling over. Clint smiles at the image – just goes to show that you shouldn’t judge a person by the way they look.

Clint pulls out his phone and dials Coulson’s number. It rings for quite a few times before he answers.

“Hello?”

_Hello?_

Clint frowns at the delay. “Sir, I’m here.”

“Where? Oh, there you are. Turn around. I’m at your six”

_Where? Oh, there you are. Turn around. I’m at your six_

Clint turns and finds Coulson staring back at him, the child still sat on his shoulders. Clint frowns even more but this time with confusion. _Coulson has a kid?_ He wisely doesn’t say out loud. He also purposefully avoids looking at the tattoos coiling Phil’s arm, and the piercing Clint’s missed a second ago. Clint drops the phone call and walks toward Coulson, the frown still on his face.

Coulson sighs and rolls his eyes at Clint as if reading his mind. “He isn’t mine.” He says with a hint of amusement tinging his voice.

“I-“ Clint tried to deny thinking it.

“You thought he’s mine didn’t you? I just found him crying. He wouldn’t stop crying until I placed him on my shoulders. We’re looking for his mom.” Coulson pulls the child off of his shoulders and placed him back on the ground. “Mike, this is Mr. Barton. He’s here to help us look for your mom. Can you say hi to Mr. Barton?”

The child shyly raises his hand in a wave, hiding behind Coulson’s pant leg. Clint smiles and crouches down to look at the child in the eye. “Hi, Mike. You can call me Clint. What do you say we go find your mom?” Mike smiles a little bit and nods before he comes out from hiding behind Coulson. “Would you like to hold my hand as well?” Clint asks the child, offering an open palm to him. Mike reaches out and grasps Clint’s hand. Clint nods at him with a smile then stands up next to Mike. Mike reaches out his other hand toward Coulson and the man smiles down at him, taking the tiny hand in his.

They start walking around the park, trying to look for any distressed looking mothers but so far there were none. Hours pass and the few people they passed by started getting fewer and fewer.

“I’m sorry for asking sir, but is this a hobby of yours? Looking for lost children, bringing them back to their mothers?” Clint asks, Mike was now using the two men’s strength to swing himself back and forth, giggling as he does so.

“We’re outside training and you’re taking time off of your personal schedule to help me find this child’s mother. I think you can call me Phil, Barton.” _Phil_ says with a smile, staring at the playing child then up at Clint.

Clint tries not to find it endearing, but the combination of the child and the fond look on Coul- Phil’s face makes it impossible. “I guess you can call me Clint too, _sir._ ”

Phil laughs and it’s easily becoming Clint’s favorite sound. “Fair enough.” Clint stares at the crow’s feet lining the man’s eyes, before Phil looks away. “And no, this isn’t a hobby.”

Clint frowns for a second and then remembers that, oh yeah, he asked Phil a question.

“But I can’t exactly just leave the child alone, right? That’d be heartless of me.”

Clint laughs, unable to help himself. “So the robot has a heart?” Clint teases. There had been rumors around the unit about Phil - About all of the officers actually, but Clint tended to focus on anything about Coulson even if he doesn’t intend to – that he’s actually a robot sent undercover by the government to find an anomaly in the small university in their town, or that he’s had his emotions trained out of him when he was young so that he could become the perfect soldier.

Clint half expects Phil to glare at him or yell but he just hums. “Is that what’s going around now?” Phil sort of pouts. “I sort of liked the one about me being an alien. That was actually really interesting.”

Clint laughs again, harder this time. “Maybe I should start spreading that one? It’ll get me some ‘spect.”

Phil chokes on a laugh. “ _’spect?_ What the he- heck is ‘spect?” He catches himself before he cursed.

“’spect. You know, Respect. ‘creds, gangsta points.” Clint does his best impression of a lame gangster wannabe just to get Phil to laugh. It works.

Phil rolls his eyes at Clint, a smile on his face. “Oh my god. Stop. You’re embarrassing Mike.”

Clint grins down at Mike, who grins back at him and continues to swing himself, then back at Phil.

“So, if you don’t go helping lost children back to their mothers, what do you do on Sundays?” Clint asks.

“When I’m neither trying to help lost lambs or train mouthy cadets, I usually stay at home on Sundays and do my homework like a good student.” Phil says with a little more sass than Clint expects out of the man.

“Was that a jab at me, Coulson? I feel hurt. I refuse to work with someone who sasses me.” Clint replies with an exaggerated gasp. Mike mimics him. “See? Even Mike agrees.”

Phil laughs again and Clint cherishes every second of it. “What about you? What do you usually do on Sundays besides out partying?”

Clint’s brows knit in amused confusion. “I don’t go out to party on Sundays.” Phil raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s every other day of the week.” Clint jokes, Phil chuckles. “On Sundays I usually go to the range to practice.”

Phil hums again, “Practice what?”

“Archery. I’m part of the university’s team. Gotta practice if I want to keep both my place in the team and my scholarship.”

Phil stays quiet for a moment and just stares at Clint. “What?” Clint can’t help but ask.

“I just- It’s going to sound really judgmental but-“

“But I don’t look like a scholar? Yeah, don’t worry about it. I get that a lot.” Clint shrugs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Phil says, looking down.

“What? Don’t be sorry. I’m not insulted. I swear. I’m used to it and I never really cared anyway so it’s totally fine.” Clint chastised.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t be. Just because you look hot doesn’t mean you’re dumb. I’ve seen your theoretical examinations. You get the highest scores no matter how much Hill twists the exams.”

“You think I’m hot?” Clint can’t resist asking while waggling his eyebrows.

“That’s what you got out of that?” Phil asks in return,

“It’s a valid concern.”

“Anyone with eyes can see you’re hot, Clint. You’re practically teasing everyone in your unit every training day.” Phil shrugs, with a roll of his eyes.

Clint was about to retort when Mike let out a scream close to the sound of a banshee screaming. Both men flinched, Mike pulling his arm out of their grasp and running off. It didn’t take much effort to catch up with him, only to see Mike being hugged by a crying woman.

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, okay Mikey?” The woman says, clutching her son’s face in both her hands and rubbing his soft cheeks with her thumb. She pulled him for another tight hug, closing her eyes as she silently cried in relief. Only then did she notice the two men standing nearby, staring at both of them.

Phil tugs at Clint’s sleeve and jerks his head back from the way they came, Clint nods and walks side by side with Phil. “Wait!” The woman calls out. They both turn to find that the woman is now carrying Mike in her arms and is headed their way. “Are they the people that helped you, baby?” Mike nods at her and she faces them, “I’d like to thank you both. I’m so sorry for the trouble he might have caused. And I just- I can’t thank you enough.” She starts rummaging through her bag with one hand, the other holding Mike against her hip. “I hope this is enough to-“

“No, please. We insist.” Phil starts to say. “We didn’t do it for any kind of reward. We just wanted to help.”

“Besides, Mike wasn’t trouble at all.” Clint says, smiling at the boy. “He’s a perfectly behaved little boy.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not alone in thinking that. I’d still really like to thank you. So why don’t you both just call me in my office instead? What were your names again?”

“I’m Phil, this is Clint.” Phil says to her with a polite smile. She hands him a card with her details on it.

“Okay. Phil and Clint. I got it. I’ll tell my assistant to look out for your call. It was nice meeting you both, especially in times like these. Again, thank you so much, and please, don’t forget to contact me.” She says with insistence, shaking both their hands. Mike waves them both goodbye and so does she.

They both walk back to the coffee shop they were supposed to meet at, a light conversation filling the gap.

“It’s a little late to go back to my house to train now, do you want to go home?” Phil asks tentatively.

“Nah, it’s a little too early. I’ll maybe grab something to eat at ol’ Joes. You wanna join me? They make the best breakfast foods you’ll ever taste.”

Phil chuckles and raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s almost dinner time.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t have eggs and bacon.” Clint shrugs.

Phil shakes his head in amusement. “Yeah, sure. I can drive us to wherever that is.”

“Uhh…”

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you behind the wheel ‘coz I technically haven’t seen you drive like the mad man that you are, but the road’s too narrow there so cars can’t really get to it. It’s close though. Just 5 blocks from here.”

Phil shrugs, “I’m not in a hurry anyway.” He grins at Clint and gestures forward with a bow. “Lead the way.”

Clint laughs, but starts walking anyway.

\---

**Day 75**

“And then he says pickle!” Clint laughs heartily, dipping a fry into his milkshake.

Natasha rolls her eyes, Bucky, beside her, just has this amused sort of grin on his face. “So, when are you going to ask him out?” Bucky asks after Clint’s laughter has died down.

Clint scoffs. “What do you mean ask him out? I’m not asking him out.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He asks Clint. “He’s kidding, right?” He asks Natasha.

Natasha scoffs and eats a fry from her plate, smacking Clint’s hand when he tries to reach for her fries. “He’s a champ when it comes to denial, I’m afraid. He’s not kidding.”

“So what? You make us listen to all these stories about _Phil_ and you don’t even know when to give in to your feelings and just ask the guy out?” Bucky was still bitter about the fact that Clint could call Phil by his first name while he has to refer to everyone in their office either Sir or Ma’am, so whenever he can, he hisses Phil’s name out in a teasing tone at Clint.

“I don’t talk about him _all_ the time.” Clint defends.

Bucky gives him a deadpan look and Natasha smirks. “See what I mean?” She asks Bucky. “Denial.”

Clint’s not in denial. He’s really not. Okay, so he might have talked about Phil on more than one occasion, but it was hardly _always_. He talks about his friend in a moderate amount, thank you very much.

But sometimes, it’s just really hard not to. Phil is just so amazing. He’s been on the Dean’s list since he entered the University. He’s living with his mom alone, so they both share the chores – turns out, Phil is a great cook. His dad was high up in the military before he was killed in action two years ago. His dad is also Phil’s inspiration for wanting to join the Rangers. Help protect the innocent, serve the country and all that. Even with his responsibilities in the office – and the additional Sunday trainings Phil has with Clint, he always finds the time to study and for his friends outside the office. He’s always level-headed and he has this very dry sense of humor that Clint adores. He also had this really epic reaction when he first tried the fry + milkshake combo – Clint had forced him to try it when he found out Phil hasn’t ever dipped a fry in milkshakes ever – Phil’s ordered Fries and milkshakes whenever they were in ol’ Joe’s ever since.

During their Sunday trainings, Phil and Clint usually exchange stories to pass the time when Clint needs to rest his fingers. Clint found out about the more private things about Phil during this time. Like his tattoos were an act of rebellion back when he was way too young and barely even legal to actually get them. He was mad at his dad for a really mundane reason that Phil can’t even remember. He just remembers feeling so angry that he went out, thought about what would make his dad _really_ pissed off and got a tattoo and some piercings. Thankfully, the parlor was clean enough that he didn’t get any sort of infection but was desperate enough to accept barely legal teenagers to actually get tattoos.

The design was just something he chose at random. A sleeve of tattoo that covered the ball of his shoulders to where his wrist starts. It turned out pretty good and the design wasn’t actually something he chose out of spite so he really liked it, and now, 5 years later, he still hasn’t gotten around to getting it removed. If he was being honest though, he doesn’t really want to get rid of it.

Clint also met Mrs. Coulson, who had more stories about Phil than the man was comfortable with sharing about himself. Clint loves Mrs. Coulson. She knows exactly how to make his son blush that pretty shade of pink that Clint wishes he could do.

Clint’s never told Natasha or Bucky about the stories that Phil shared with him, but he does talk about what they did the day before or where they ate or what movie they watched or the jokes they made.

But it wasn’t like it was the only thing Clint talked about.

“You’re right.” Natasha concedes, “You also talk about archery.”

Bucky, the asshole, snickers. “So basically the two things Clint loves.”

Natasha high fives him, and Clint is very much not amused.

\---

**Day 78**

Coulson – Clint reverts back to calling him Coulson on Saturdays, thinking that yes, they are friends but Phil is still his superior on the field – has done everything he can for Clint. Teaching him the tricks to a faster time, arranging the parts properly so that he doesn’t have to fumble when assembling – little tricks but it cut two seconds off of Clint’s time. He’s also reviewed Clint for the theoretical part of the competition and Clint’s pretty much memorized the whole anatomy and specs of their rifle by heart.

So Clint shouldn’t even be worried about today’s competition, and yet, here he was, so nervous that his knee can’t keep still.

“You’ll be fine.” Coulson says to him.

“Thanks,” Clint says to him absently. “I just- I’m nervous. Everything we’ve trained for this past few months. Everything we’ve worked hard for. It all ends here and I can’t just- I can’t lose. I don’t want to.” Clint stands in front of Phil, running his hand through his hair.

“Knowing that you gave your best? Knowing that you’ve worked hard to get where you are? That’s enough, Clint.” Phil stands up and steps closer.

“Yeah, but…” _I wanna make you proud._ Clint doesn’t say.

Phil smiles at him, a rare sight when the man is in his uniform. Clint realizes only then that they were terribly close. Clint’s words die down as his eyes flicker down to Phil’s lips, so close to his; Clint wonders if it’ll be as soft as it looks, maybe even softer, and looks back up again. They slowly gravitate towards each other, neither speaking nor caring that they were just behind the grand stand when someone clears his throat.

Phil and Clint spring apart and they both turn to look at the newcomer, Fury who only has an eyebrow raised as he stared at them. “Your competition’s starting in 5 minutes, Barton. You better get your ass back to your team mates.” He leaves without another word.

Phil continues to stare at the ground, “I, uh- I should go.” Clint says instead.

Coulson gives him a nod and a smile, “You’ll do great.”

\---

**Day 85**

“I can’t believe it’s over.” Natasha says, as they make their way to ol’ Joe’s. Natasha and Clint graduated from ROTC today. As did Bucky from his trainee position, he now has a rank, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. That ass is going to be so smug for the next few weeks.

“It seems like it was just yesterday that I had to call you just to wake you up.” Natasha sighs as they turn the corner to ol’ Joe’s. “I’m going to miss it.” She says more to himself than to Clint at this point.

Clint laughs silently, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “Yeah, me too. Never thought I’d say I’m gonna miss waking up so early in the morning, but I will.”

Natasha hums and pulls on the handle of the door. Clint bumps into her when she suddenly freezes in her tracks. “What the-“ Clint cranes his head over her shoulder to find Phil standing next to their usual booth.

“I’ll be over there.” Natasha says, pointing at one of the stools but Clint doesn’t hear her. He continues to stare at Phil, in all his uniformed glory, even as he walks toward him. Clint stops just a breath’s away from Phil, their combat boots, inches away from actually touching.

“Hi.” Phil says to him, giving Clint one of those smiles that Clint knows he doesn’t use whenever he’s in uniform.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Clint asks, feeling a little breathless.

“I wanted to treat you to celebratory milkshakes with you as congratulations for graduating and I was going to ask you something. I just- I didn’t think you’d be together with Romanoff when you got here.” He says a little sadly, “I kind of thought you guys were just really close friends.”

“We are.” Clint corrects hastily. “I mean, yeah. The best of friends. I’m not dating her. She’s in a relationship with Barnes.”

Phil visibly perks up, and if that isn’t the cutest thing Clint’s seen, then he doesn’t know what is.

“You had a question?” Clint prompted.

“Oh, I just- I wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a date sometime. You can say no if you want to, of course, there’s no pressure here. I wanted to ask you earlier but no matter how many times I ran it in my head, it just seemed more like I’m ordering you to go on a date with me rather than actually asking you out so I decided that maybe I should wait until you graduated so that you actually had a choice if you ever wanted to say no. Besides, dating a cadet is not allowed and since you were still a cadet, I had to try and ignore how much I actually wanted to kiss you. Fury even-“

Clint shuts him up then, while simultaneously answering Clint’s previous question about Phil’s lips being soft as they looked. The answer: Hell yes. Clint pulls away after just a second, and he sees Phil leaning forward a bit, trying to follow Clint’s lips. Phil’s eyes flutter open and he smiles a little too dopily.

“You were babbling.” Clint informs him.

Phil huffs a laugh. “I should babble more then.”

Clint chuckles until it slowly dies down. He raises his hand to cradle Phil’s cheek, pulling the man for another kiss, softer this time, sweeter and slower.

They rest their foreheads against each other when they break apart, Clint grins at Phil and whispers, “Yes. I’d like to go on a date with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are gifts. :D


End file.
